


Out Takes from Born from the Earth

by venusm



Series: Autochthonous [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-02-23 09:19:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2542343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venusm/pseuds/venusm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is intended to be a series of snippets from my epic, Born from the Earth.  I have a lot of scenes written that didn't fit into the overall narrative for one reason or the other.  Each chapter will be its own snippet, and I'll include notes for each.  None of them will make sense outside the main story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Alex's first evening at Stark House

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Born from the Earth](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1013991) by [venusm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/venusm/pseuds/venusm). 



> I ended up moving around the kidnapping, so this scene didn't fit the final timeline. 
> 
> This scene takes place as if it's the first night that Alex has come to stay. 
> 
> I have the best readers in the whole world, and several of them mentioned that they read BftE as a comfort read. This is a scene I read when I'm down and want a bit of comfort, and I wanted to share it as a bit of a treat. I hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> It contains no spoilers for the main storyline, it's just a quiet relationship scene.

 

When Steve comes to the living room again, it's early evening, the time he often sits with Tony.  Steve is pretty sure that Tony will want to spend Alex's first night alone with him, but he could be wrong.  Steve's brought their current book, a restful novel about a woman who moves to a small town in Alaska to start her life over. 

Tony's favorite chair is empty.

The couch is not.

Alex Richardson is next to the armrest, the opposite end of Steve's usual spot.  He's comfortably slouched, book open in front of him on the armrest, mug of tea on the side table.  The robot lamp casts a soft glow over his minky-brown hair and his fine features.

Tony's resting with his head in Alex's lap.  Tony's lying the length of the couch, and his socked feet are resting exactly where Steve usually sits.  His eyes are open, sparkling brown but a little uncertain as he looks at Steve. 

"Evening," Steve says.   

"Evening," Sa Richardson says absently.  His right hand is resting in Tony's hair, and he goes back to running his hand through it.  Caressing.  Stroking Tony's hair back and sliding down to caress his neck, giving the extra-sensitive skin there a few gentle scratches the way Steve's seen people scratch cats behind their sensitive ears.

Tony's eyes close and he makes a strange near-rumbling noise of relaxed pleasure.  His toes curl and uncurl and he lets out a soft sigh, curling into the touch, going boneless.

Steve can't look away.

Sa Richardson's hand keeps working, using the back of his knuckles at times and the length of his fingers other times until Tony looks nearly blissed out and deeply under.  The fine lines around his eyes smooth out and the brackets around his mouth loosen until he looks young. 

At last, Sa Richardson takes a sip of tea with his other hand.  "Won't you join us, Steve?"

Steve jolts.  He's nearly drifted off himself, caught in the spell of sleepy arousal and contentment.  "Thank you.  I'd like that.  I'll just--"  He glances at Tony's usual chair.

"Tony, feet up, darling.  Good boy."  Sa Richardson doesn't even look over, as though it's not possible that Tony would do anything else but move his feet up, which is exactly what Tony does.

Steve sits in his usual spot, feeling dazed.

"All right, darling," Sa Richardson says, still absently, as though nothing unusual is going on whatsoever. 

Tony stretches back out again, languid as a cat, and Steve suddenly has Tony's socked feet in his lap.  They're warm, heavy, nice. 

Steve looks over at Sa Richardson in astonishment.  Sa Richardson's eyes twinkle, but he only says, "Tony's told me you often read together in the evenings."

"Yes, well, that is--Tony usually works on his electronics or fixes things, and I read interesting bits of whatever I'm reading aloud.  Sometimes we play music, but I'm not supposed to have a lot of media.  Too much stimulation."

Sa Richardson strokes his hand through Tony's curls again.

Tony lets out a long deep sigh of contentment before saying, "Steven has a bizarre fetish for local history.  The past is another country, he says.  Pffft."

"You liked Salt: A World History," Steve says mildly. 

"That's different," Tony says airily, just as he always does, "that book was cool.  The weird history of Brooklyn with the depressing tenements stuff was just grim."

Steve can't quite believe this is happening.  Tony's completely relaxed and right here.  His feet are in Steve's lap.  There's none of the shining tension that sings through every muscle when Tony's using his body as a weapon.  Tony's not using his body for anything right now--he's just home, resting. 

"I brought the novel about the woman in Alaska," Steve says, watching Sa Richardson's fingers stroke through Tony's dark curls again and again.  "But maybe we should start a new book.  So Sa Richardson can follow along."

That gets him matching pleased smiles, and Steve's struck silent--dazzled.  It's going to be difficult to keep himself from throwing off aroused pheromones all over the place.

"Call me Alex, please," Sa Richardson says.  "And I don't mind if you continue reading what you've been reading."

Tony tips his head back so he can look up at Sa Richardson--Alex.  Then he looks back at Steve.  "Alex's favorite is Anne of Green Gables."

"Then that's what we'll read," Steve says immediately. 

"Of course you have a copy," Tony says, heaving a world weary sigh, even though the book was his own suggestion.  "But we're skipping the really sad bit."

Sa Richardson toys with Tony's hair, looking down at him, fond.  "It makes Tony cry."

"It does _not_ ," Tony mutters.   "You're a vile liar.  I just had something in my eye."

"Each and every time," Sa Richardson says, twining a curl around his finger and then letting it go.  He strokes Tony's jaw to make him look up at him again.  "I love you."

The modern world says this should hurt, Steve knows, to watch Sa Richardson say that to his mate, but it doesn't.  Tony's eyes go wide, then shy, and he ducks his head away.  Sa Richardson's hands return to their previous work, caressing the tense places in Tony's body, gentling the old aches from hunching over in the workshop, drawing pleasure from his neck. 

It's beautiful. 

Steve inhales deeply, drawing in the mingled scents of iron and earth, of the two omegas so close in his space.  He gets to spend his evening with them, and it's a heady delight.  He's half-hard in his jeans, but he slides out from under Tony's feet.  He gives Tony's foot a gentle pat.  "I'll be right back."

Halfway to the hallway, Steve hears Tony clear his throat.  Steve turns back, curious.  "Yes?"

"Steven?"

Tony looks so open like this, his face unguarded.  It takes away years, and reminds Steve how young he is. 

"Yes?" Steve asks.  "Can I bring you something else?"

Tony looks down, braces himself a little, then looks up again.  "When you come back--maybe the box by my chair?  And one of your blankets?  The dark blue one?"

"Sure, Tony."  Steve smiles at them both. 

Alex's expression shifted a little when Tony mentioned the blanket, and Steve's not sure why.  There are several blankets in the living room--including a truly ridiculously soft and luxurious cashmere throw that Honey loves to wrap herself in at the breakfast table. 

Steve thinks he knows why Tony wants Steve to bring one.  The omegas in Steve's old pack had sometimes stolen his blankets when he went on patrol.  He'd come back from a week's absence to find his bed practically stripped bare.  They always returned them, looking guilty. 

Once, Steve had slipped back to camp the back way and gone straight to where the omegas were sleeping. 

His blankets had been carefully draped to form the top layer of the bedding on the omega's shared bed--a quiet reminder to all comers that these omegas were protected.   And by whom.

It doesn't take long to fetch the items he wants.  A copy of Anne of Green Gables, the dark blue blanket, and two of his own overshirts in case his omegas are actually cold.  A quick trip to the kitchen for drinks, and then he sets everything on the coffeetable. 

Tony sits up to snatch the ginger beer and his box of electronics.  He stares in puzzlement at the overshirts, but there's an aquisitive gleam in his eye when he looks at the blanket. 

"It's a little chilly in parts of the house," Steve says to Alex, who is peering at the supplies with interest.  "I wasn't sure what you brought along.  Just a couple overshirts in case you get cold."

To Steve's surprise, the omega grabs the closest shirt and tugs it on.  It's made of extra-soft thick cotton in rich blue and green flannel plaid.  Since it's Steve's shirt, it completely dwarfs the omega.  The sleeves are so long they trail over the backs of Alex's hands, and it's so big in the chest it probably could fit two of him. 

Still, Alex seems pleased as he looks down at himself. 

"Goes nice with your eyes," Tony says, looking his lover over. 

Alex settles back into his spot.  Tony lays back down, head still in Alex's lap, but propped up a bit more so he can see what he's doing with his box. 

They're both looking at him expectantly.  Tony lifts his feet into the air and waggles them emphatically.  Steve takes the hint--demand, really--and sits in his spot. 

The dark blue blanket is his main comforter, and his bed is huge.  If Steve spreads it out, it can cover all of them.  Maybe....maybe that's what Tony would like?  His old omegas would have already grabbed the blanket and sorted it out among themselves, but this is a very different situation. 

Steve wonders, suddenly, how different it might be. 

Courting Tony is a complex process.  Part of creating a pack and courting a mate means showing your omega what you can do for them, how well you can provide.  The power of your back, the strength of your arms, the shelter of your shoulder. 

If this was taking place in Steve's old world...

Steve would believe both omegas had just told him they wanted to be closer to him, to be comforted by his scent.  He picks up the blanket and begins spreading it out carefully.  Under modern rules, Steve should unfold it a bit in the exact center of their couch (Tony's knees) and then allow the two omegas to arrange it themselves. 

It's a risk, but Steve listens to his instincts and leans over to tuck the blanket around both omegas himself.  He moves softly, yes, but he also moves as if he has every right to touch them and be in their space. 

Tony lets him slide the blanket under each of his arms, watching Steve, but his lively eyes are unreadable. 

When Steve tucks the blanket up around Alex's legs, the omega makes a little startled movement.  Steve looks up, and Alex has gone still, eyes wide. 

The modern proper thing to do would be to apologize, but Steve takes the other edge of the blanket and brings it up to nestle it around Alex's shoulders.  Alex's nostrils flare and his earth smell has a hint of fear for the first time since Steve's met him. 

Steve offers his open hand to Alex, letting him sniff if he'd like.  That gets him a blank look.  Right.  Whole new world. 

"I'm offering to let you smell me," Steve says gently. 

Alex jerks back a little, looking at Steve's hand like it's a snake.  "Why in the world are you doing that, darling?"

Tony looks back and forth between them, a frown between his brows, but he doesn't say anything. 

"See if it makes you feel better," Steve says, keeping his open hand still. 

Alex looks like he's getting ready to taste one of the vile octopus tentacles at that sushi restaurant Hill likes, but he leans forward and sniffs Steve's open hand.  After a tense moment, he sniffs again.  He looks up at Steve, but he doesn't draw away.  Alex sniffs one last time, then gently nuzzles Steve's hand before sitting back.

Steve hasn't moved, and he's keeping his breathing nice and deep, smooth and even.  He probably smells of arousal more strongly now, but that's all right.  He'd like them both to know how beautiful he finds them. 

"There," Steve says, "I've noticed that the modern upper-class world doesn't much understand how things work.  Or they only let it go in one direction."

"How things work?" Alex asks.

"What direction?" Tony asks.

"Pack dynamics," Steve says, to Alex.  To Tony, he says, "The world likes to focus on what the alpha supposedly gets from the omegas.  Sex.  But that's not what real packs are about."

Both omegas are looking at him with gazes shuttered.

"Dr Katz has been explaining to me that many upper class cultures and certain ethnic cultures lack the kind of pack knowledge that I find natural."  Steve still hasn't moved from their personal space.  "In my world, being a pack means being stronger together than apart, and being close like this is about comfort.  Like that day in the park."

Alex glances up at Steve, surprised.  "Did you--"  He stops, looking embarrassed.

Tony tilts his head back to look up at him, curious. 

"I found you very comforting," Steve tells him.  He thought Alex knew, but maybe the omega talked himself out of it.  The modern world sure doesn't approve of a lot of the things omegas do.  An omega comforting a distressed alpha was about the kindest thing in Steve's old world, but not this one. 

Tony grins up at Alex, looking proud.  "Alex is the best."

Alex shifts around, looking guilty, although Steve can't imagine about what.  "I just--"

"It gave me the courage to talk about it for the first time.  Dr Katz has me do a mental grounding exercise, and I use that time as my safe space."

Tony snuggles up against Alex and smiles at Steve.  The warm cheerful iron-ore scent coming off him is lovely. 

"Oh," Alex says quietly.  The feral way he's looking through his bangs makes Steve wonder what in the world other people have said to him.  "I'm--glad.  Thank you.  For telling me.  I hadn't realized."

"You're welcome."  Steve tucks the blanket around him more snugly, and this time Alex lets him.  Alex's body language is still wary, but he's more thoughtful.  Considering.  He lets Steve move the comforter wherever he likes. 

Steve moves back to his own side of the couch, but instead of just sitting normally, he rests his back against the armrest and extends his legs alongside Tony's under the blankets.  Tony tucks his toes under Steve's thighs, which is reward enough, but Alex slides a hand under the blanket and pats Steve's foot, which makes it even better. 

He picks up their new book and begins to read.  After a little while, both omegas relax into a kind of sleepy contentment that Steve hasn't seen in them before. 

His omegas smell rested and warm, right, and Steve watches over the top of his book as Tony's hands work on his machinery.  Alex has gone back to stroking Tony's hair and neck, petting his shoulders.  It's what the formal pack-behavior book Dr Katz leant him calls 'grooming behavior', but to Steve it's just right.  This is what his omegas should be doing. 

After a while, Steve rests his voice.  No one says anything, but it's a comfortable silence.  Tony slides the extra ginger beer closer to Steve, and Steve takes it, sipping. 

They stay like that for a long while, reading or listening, just curled up together. 

At last, Steve shuts the book and puts it on the table.  He slides out from under the comforter and pads over to Tony, who is looking up at him, fingers grease-marked and smelling of repair oil now. 

Steve leans down, nice and slow, to give Tony his goodnight kiss.  Tony's mouth opens under his, and he makes a delighted little moan into Steve's mouth.  Steve cups his jaw and lengthens the kiss, then pulls back just enough to nuzzle at Tony's scent. 

"Good night, Tony," Steve says softly. 

All he gets is a quiet noise in return.  Tony leans up for another kiss, but Steve caresses his hair and draws back.

Alex is sitting there, watchful, still.  Steve wants there to be no misunderstanding--Steve is not going to take Tony to his own bed tonight, away from Alex.  He likes the two of them together. 

"Good night, Alex," Steve says.  "Thank you for a lovely evening.  I hope we'll do it again whenever you can."

"I enjoyed it," Alex says.  He still sounds shy, unlike his confident self.

Whatever is going on here, Steve will need to figure it out.  Someone, sometime, has given Alex some strange ideas about what omegas are allowed to do. 

Not tonight, though.  Later, after Steve's had a chance to think it over. 

"Sleep well," Steve says.  He can't help a last pleased look at his two omegas, curled together under his own blanket, one wearing his shirt.  It's a gorgeous sight.

Steve knows that tonight, if he dreams, it won't be of the ice.


	2. The Moose Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This snippet doesn't add enough to make it worthy of being included in the main canon. I wrote it to amuse myself, as I often do, and I include it here for the same reason. 
> 
> It takes place between Tony setting up the snuggle-sessions for Steve and before Alex's kidnapping.
> 
> Honestly, I have no excuses. Except to say that it's, uh, kinda a hat tip to my own north-woods relatives.

Honey's on the couch performing additional snuggle-duties the next morning.  Steve waits until Tony's off to the workshop to broach the subject.  He's got the sense that it's even more complicated than Tony let on, and he wants an outsider's perspective. 

Or at least Honey's perspective.

Honey's running her fancy nails through his hair and humming Some Day My Prince Will Come softly under her breath.  She's got a pretty voice, and Steve joins in until it's over.

"I didn't know you knew that movie," Honey says.

"I saw it before the war," Steve says.  "I'm glad it's still around."

"It's a classic."

"Say Honey, I was talking to Alex Richardson yesterday.  I've got a sort of strange question."

"Oh boy," she says.  "Shoot."

"Has he ever been courted?"

Honey hoots with laughter, and she scratches her strange plastic nails against Steve's chest affectionately.  "Has he _ever_.  You should get him to tell you some of his stories.  They're pretty funny."

"Really?"  Sa Richardson hadn't offered any funny stories.  Interesting.

"Oh yeah.  Tony doesn't seem to think so, but even he's gotta admit the moose was fucking funny."

"Moose," Steve says. "What moose?"

"I assume you're talking about the motherfucking three quarter ton frozen moose carcass that got dumped on my front porch," Tony says grumpily.  He plops down in his usual spot, sitting cross legged.  He's got bottles of fancy soda, but he doesn't offer them.  "Don't tell me you're telling Steve this story."

"It's a funny story, Tony.  Even you gotta see it's pretty hilarious."

"There is nothing hilarious about it," Tony mutters. 

"Why was there a dead moose on Tony's porch?"  Does Tony even have a porch?

"Well," Honey drawls.  She eyes Tony and then snatches one of his sodas.  He glares at her, but doesn't take it back.  "See, Alex, he does a lot of business up in the north.  Lots of untracked land up there."

"And idiots with more orange flannel than sense," Tony says, pointing his bottle at her.  "And fucking huge guns."

"Like you don't have big guns.  Please.  Anyway, so Alex spends a lot of time up there, and you know, he's real pretty.  Kind of, you know."  Honey waggles her eyebrows.  "Fiesty."

"Yes," Steve says, amused. 

Tony is looking extremely disgruntled and he's started picking off the label of his soda with vicious little jabs of his thumbnail.  "Fiesty.  Christ."

"So, sometimes he catches the eye of one of the alphas.  They can be pretty old school.  They're a lot more pack based up there." 

"Are they," Steve murmurs.

"Yep.  So Tony's hauled Alex off to the Stark cabin upstate this one time, because Alex works too much.  Says they need a vacation, get Alex to relax.  Lots of snow and maybe some ice fishing.  I think ice fishing's code for--"

"Hey!" Tony says.

"Canoodling," Honey says, "but whatever keeps you warm at night.  They're up there a couple days, supposed to stay a whole week, and suddenly I get this frantic call from Tony."

"I wasn't frantic," Tony says.  "I am never _frantic_."

"You were totally frantic.  ‘Honey, oh my God, there's a motherfucking dead deer on my porch the size of a car.  What the hell am I gonna do?’"

"There was really a dead moose on the porch?" Steve asks.

"There was really a dead moose on the porch," Tony says darkly.  "It wasn't just dead, it had these big sad brown moose eyes and antlers the size of a car bumper.  I about had a heart attack when I opened the door."

"Dang," Steve says. 

"So, Tony's on the phone to me, all freaked out, and in the background, I hear the doorbell ring.  And then I hear Alex doing his Southern thing."

"It's genetic," Tony says.  "I swear it's genetic.  It's the only explanation."

"He's all, 'Why how thoughtful of you, darling.  Yes, I did notice it, but I wasn't sure who had left it.'  Tony's making these little huffy sounds, like this really outraged tiny dragon."

"I did _not_ ," Tony says, incensed.

"You totally did.  Huff, huff, huff.  And Alex is trying to think of something nice to say, because that's what you do when you get a present.  I'll never forget it.  He says, 'This certainly is lovely--what is this called, darling, this sort of fuzzy stuff on the antlers?  I've never seen any quite so attractive.'"

"It was fucking _moss_ ," Tony says.  "That damn dead moose had green moss stuck to its head and Alex is all, how pretty, why thank you, I've always liked the moss on the antlers."

"Did he really say that?" Steve asks.

"Yeah, he did," Honey says, obviously fond.  "He gets polite when he's nervous.  It's a Virginia thing.  Like a coping mechanism.  You panic Alex, he goes all weirdly charming.  It's sort of cute."

"It's psychotic," Tony mutters.  "Why thank you, I've always liked _moss_.  Christ."

"Well, that alpha lady did have a large rifle," Honey points out.  "He probably didn't want to spook her until he got a better sense of what was going on."

"He offered her a cup of cocoa to warm her up!  And he put whipped cream and _sprinkles_ on it."

Steve covers his mouth with his hand.  He can kind of picture it. 

"Now Tony, you know he only did that so he could let her down gently," Honey says to him.  To Steve, she says, "Alex is sort of a softy, and he didn't want to hurt her feelings after she went to all that trouble."

"I'll show her trouble," Tony mutters.  "It was supposed to be a private vacation and suddenly there's this plaid clad alpha asshole right there at my family's cabin."

So much for Tony's claim that he isn't at the least bit possessive.

"It's not really a cabin.  More a mini-mansion decorated with lots of red wool and thick rugs and stuff.  So, while Alex is making cocoa in the kitchen, and the moose is laying on the porch all corpsified and frozen solid, Tony slips out onto the stoop and says, 'If you're not off my land in the next five minutes, I'm going to blow up your truck and you with it.'"

"He didn't," Steve says.

"Oh yes, he did.  He was still carrying his cell phone, so I heard it all.  She's blustering at him, still holding this great big moose rifle, and Tony's explaining how he's got expert satellite tracking systems and missiles he can fire from orbit and then Alex appears with the cocoa and you'd think butter wouldn't melt in their mouths the way they pretended they hadn't been scrapping over him."

Tony looks very grumpy and very guilty as he sips his soda.  He doesn't say a word.

"So, Alex is saying, 'Thank you so much for the moose, it was very thoughtful of you,' and Tony goes, 'Well, well, will you look at the time, dear, we promised to call your sister,' which is really funny if you know how much Tony hates Sarah, and then the alpha lady says wistfully, 'Thank you for the cocoa, I'd better be going,' and then she's stepped off the porch, and Tony's hustling Alex back inside the house like he's an angry papa in a stage melodrama and somebody tried to make off with his only daughter."

"I wasn't that bad," Tony says.

"You immediately booked you both on your jet for South America, Tony.  South America!"

"I was sick of snow."

Honey throws her hands in the air. 

"Hey, you find a dead moose on your porch and see how much you start craving the beach.  I'm just saying."

"Did this happen a lot?" Steve asks. 

"That was the only moose," Honey says, finishing her soda.

"For which I am fucking grateful," Tony says fervently. 

"I was more wondering whether Alex is often courted by packs," Steve says. 

Tony raises his head, alert as a terrier scenting a rat.  "What do you mean?"

Honey looks like she's decided to keep her mouth firmly shut on this topic. 

"In my day, dominant omegas as fertile as Alex were rare.  If you found one, the whole pack would pitch in to court them.  They're not--"  Steve thinks of a delicate way to put this. 

"They're kind of more of a gangbang fuck?" Honey says.

Steve shuts his eyes.  "Not how I would have put it."

"Not just the single-dude marrying kind," Honey tries.  "At least that's the way I hear it.  You get a big ole pack, somebody's got to be in charge of all those raging hormones.  You get a nice bitch like Alex, swings both ways, likes Os, good at bossing the young up and coming alphas enough to keep them from backstabbing the head dude, scoots off to knock up the odd beta couple to keep the pack happy, but doesn't like to stray, willing to do the occasional group pack fuck to have a pack kid if the timing's right, mostly prefers a single apha, maybe likes other Os the most so you get even less worry about the babies' daddies."

A few feet away, Tony is making huffy noises, and he does indeed sound like a small angry dragon.  "Alex is not--nobody is going to--that's not-- _No_."

"I'm just saying," Honey says, "that's what the packs all want.  They look at him and think, hey, we'd _all_ hit that."

Tony throws a pillow at her, she throws one back at him, and the rest of the conversation is lost to wrestling and giggles.  


End file.
